article-0-03366E500000044D-308_468x286Here’s something I’d like to share with you, and beyond.
It opens as if it were a children’s poem, but it’s not
All the best
Martin

 

 

Seals

Look. Look at Sammy

See Sammy swim

See Sammy eat the fish scraps children throw

Look for Sammy at the Fishman’s shop in Wicklow

Look at Sammy’s big sad eyes

Why is he sad

Why is he here

What does he know that we don’t

 

For over half my life I never saw seals

I’d heard they were in other places, Orkney, Hebrides,

The outer reaches of Rathlin gulf

Now they swim everywhere, Wicklow, Bulloch,

Dun Laoghaire Harbour, Howth

From their Big House on Lambey

Why now.

 

 The seals are a sign

A seal of authenticity, a guarantee of change

Seals in new seas, strange fish in trawler nets

Common fish gone scarce, birds moving North

To habitats they once avoided

 

Signs and seals and guarantees of change

We feed the seals childlike without reading

the signs, the sadness in their eyes

Maybe through seal eyes we might see

the bigger picture of change

Maybe in time we too will have sad seal eyes,

Full of regret too late, too late for going back

Martin Swords

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